<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>it hit me like a hammer by RoachIsJudgingYou</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283723">it hit me like a hammer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoachIsJudgingYou/pseuds/RoachIsJudgingYou'>RoachIsJudgingYou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>catch me [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Little Bit Of Crack, Alcohol, Bickering, Drinking, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel is the dad friend, Gen, Geralt Is In Denial, Geralt is a dumbass, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Humor, Lambert and Eskel understand Feelings?, Lambert is secretly soft, M/M, Pack Cuddles, Pining, Pre-Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Pre-Relationship, Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol, Sarcasm, Wolf Pack, as a treat, communication solely through Looks, cursing, drunk Geralt, the Bitchers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:40:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoachIsJudgingYou/pseuds/RoachIsJudgingYou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt winters at Kaer Morhen and finds that he's missing Jaskier a great deal more than usual, and he's driving the others crazy. He's in love, so of course he's the last to know. Featuring: drunk Geralt rambling about Jaskier, Eskel being equal parts the dad friend and the Done friend, and Lambert being a bitch (but not as much as he could be).<br/>Written as a companion piece to my first fic, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23696008/chapters/56893435">i hope that you catch me ('cause i'm already falling)</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel &amp; Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>catch me [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>381</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it hit me like a hammer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspiration struck me here to include a tidbit about what happened in Kaer Morhen when Geralt realized his feelings for Jaskier extended beyond that of mere friendship. The result was this. If Geralt is OOC, I’m excusing it with the fact that I’m channeling book!Geralt, who is quite a bit more talkative than netflix!Geralt and even game!Geralt. He’s also a pining, emotionally stunted witcher, so I think it’s fair to reason that he wouldn’t be quite himself. Like all of my fics, this is shamelessly self indulgent. If you like it, please don’t forget to drop some kudos or comments! They are my lifeblood.<br/>Title is stolen from the Huey Lewis &amp; the News song by the same name</p><p>Edit June 5, 20: I haven't forgotten this series! If you're waiting for more, rest assured that there is at least one more coming, maaaaaybe two. I'm still working on fleshing that bit out. Thanks for sticking with it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt made it to the keep mere hours before the first snow hit. He had pushed Roach almost to her limit, trudging up the mountain as fast as he dared. He had been able to smell it, the familiar sharp snap in the air that came with the first snow. The first flakes had just begun to fall as he walked through the gates. Eskel had been glad to see him, Lambert less enthusiastic but still happy in his own moody way. Vesemir had greeted him with a curt nod and a comment about his weight, looking him up and down with vague disapproval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Path has not been kind to you this year, boy. It would do you some good to eat more.” Geralt had merely shook his head with a smile and led Roach to the stables, where he treated her to more pampering than usual. He even slipped her a sugar cube, something he usually left to Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a pang, he remembered that it would be months before he saw the bard again. They had spent the better part of four months together this past season, traveling on the Path. Geralt took up contracts and killed monsters, and Jaskier composed and sang for their room and board. It had been a rather comforting, if unusual, routine, and Geralt had found himself settling into it with an ease he didn’t think possible. He’d spent years on the Path alone, with nobody but Roach for company. It was odd, having someone reply when he spoke to them, but the journey to Kaer Morhen had made him realize how comfortable he had grown with the bard at his side. It had been far too quiet, and rather lonely, without him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he was happy to be back in the company of the Wolves. His summer had been incredibly busy, and he was all but dead on his feet now. The others had said as much the same, and Geralt, along with Lambert and Eskel, had spent most of their first weeks back sleeping off the summer. Upon Geralt’s arrival, they had all piled up in front of the fireplace in the library, where they remained, hardly moving, for the next fortnight. The keep was quiet, but warm and always happy to welcome back her pups. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they had all rested up, they easily settled into the familiar routine of patching the keep up and training daily. Once a week, one of them would venture outside to hunt for food and there was always food in the kitchen. Vesemir would observe their sparring matches and call out corrections and semi-helpful advice as their blades clashed, and in the evenings they would all lounge in the library, reading, talking, playing gwent, or just sitting by the fire in comfortable silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throughout it all, the routine left Geralt with far too much time to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was pondering all manner of things, but eventually kept circling back to Jaskier. Melitele damn the bard, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. He had noticed the strange looks from the others, but remained stubbornly quiet about his crisis. But once Eskel caught wind of Geralt’s mood, he was like a dog with a bone; he would not rest until Geralt shared whatever juicy gossip he had. He must have colluded with Lambert, because in the short span of a few days they had begun to pester him insistently about what was bothering him. Then one night, Lambert brought out one of the barrels of White Gull, and things escalated rather quickly from there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how about that bard of yours? He’s certainly made business easier for me. What about you, Lambert?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so fucking sick of hearing about the ‘White Wolf of Rivia’ wherever I go. That song can burn, for all I care.” To anyone who didn’t know Lambert, his statement came off as abrasive, but Geralt recognized a jab when he saw one and was determined not to rise to the bait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Geralt, have a drink. What’s got you in such a state?” Eskel filled a tankard without waiting for Geralt’s response and slid it across the table. Geralt huffed and stared at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, you great prick, you’re driving us crazy. Grumbling around the keep, practically putting holes in the walls we’ve just patched with your glaring. I, for one, am not keen on spending the next several months with you acting like a bloody teenager again.” Geralt growled halfheartedly and took several gulps of his drink, slamming it back onto the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There! See, I told you we could get him to drink!” Eskel kicked Lambert underneath the table at the same time as Geralt rolled his eyes and stood up to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, wait! Dammit, we just want to know what’s wrong. You’ve got us all worried.” Eskel called after him, stumbling as he got up. Lambert was one step ahead of him and Geralt only had the warning of running footsteps before he was tackled violently to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel palmed his face and rolled his eyes before taking another swig of the White Gull. The dirty wrestling match that ensued was sure to last at least ten minutes, and the animalistic grunts coming from the ground on the other side of the table promised that it would be longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking prick,” Geralt growled, trying and failing to pin the younger witcher underneath him. Lambert shot him a predatory grin and kneed him in the gut none too gently. Geralt grimaced as the air left his lungs with a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>oof </span>
  </em>
  <span>and fell backwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter, old man? Losing your touch?” Lambert pinched a nerve in Geralt’s bicep and he hissed at the tingling sensation that shot down his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fighting dirty, bastard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! I expect the same from you, you grumpy bitch!” Eskel looked on, amusement warring with irritation on his scarred face. Colorful insults began flying through the air and he caught a glimpse of tousled white hair before the pair rolled out of his sight under the table. He merely pulled his legs up to lay crossed on the bench, feeling no desire to join their antics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only ducked his head under the table when he heard Lambert chuckle dangerously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yield, asshole. I’ve got you beat.” Lambert was straddling Geralt, one knee sitting on top of Geralt’s hip with a considerable amount of weight behind it. One of Geralt’s arms was pinned underneath his body and he looked positively furious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me up, Lambert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not until you promise to tell us what’s got you in such a shit mood as of late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt glowered at Lambert, but the younger man simply sat unflinching. He was far too used to Geralt’s glares for them to be effective any more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Geralt. Share a drink with us and we can talk. Keep’s no fun when you’re prowling about acting like someone kicked your puppy.” Eskel urged, his neck starting to ache from the awkward position. Finally, Geralt rolled his eyes and tapped out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. But I want some fucking food.” Lambert grinned easily and rolled off of Geralt, who quickly got up and dusted himself off. He stalked off to the kitchen, preening and huffing the whole way while Lambert settled back into his original spot, looking smug. Eskel raised an eyebrow and took another drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes tried and true methods work best with the old man,” he shrugged. Eskel laughed into his drink and listened to the clattering of dishes from the kitchen as Geralt cooked up some of the venison he’d caught earlier in the week. Eskel hummed pensively and set his drink down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last he was like this, the name Butcher of Blaviken was spreading across the North like wildfire and it took us weeks to pry the full story out of him. I hope it’s not as serious this time.” Lambert didn’t reply but the furrow in his brow spoke worlds of his concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The good news is we haven’t heard any creative new nicknames as of late. In fact, business has been fairly steady since that damn song was written.” The song in question had quickly become simultaneously detested and loved for those who remained alive and in the business of witchering. It glorified their work, which was good for business, but it also made traveling with witchers something of a challenge to plucky young humans. Usually, the first real encounter with a monster was enough to send them back with tails tucked, but warding them off had gotten old quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stalked from the kitchen to their table, carrying a plate of steaming venison that smelled rather lovely. Lambert sniffed the air appreciatively, not unnoticed by the white-haired witcher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even think about it. You want your own, go make some.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, testy. Ah, well, I have plenty of booze to satisfy me.” Lambert crossed his arms and leaned back with a leer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright you two, enough of that. Geralt, spill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt did not, in fact, spill. He was slow and methodical about his eating, savoring every bite as well as the pinched expressions on their faces. Once or twice, Lambert made as if to snatch a morsel off of his plate and was nearly skewered. Geralt sat in silence and the three of them remained that way until he had finished his meal, seeming to enjoy the agony he was subjecting his companions to. He then proceeded to fill a tankard of his own all the way to the brim with White Gull and drain the entire contents of it in one go. They watched, intrigued and vaguely horrified as he slammed the empty container onto the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. Good batch. Now, what’s got you two so worked up?” Eskel heaved a drawn-out sigh, used to Geralt’s theatrics after nearly a century of brotherhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might ask you the same question. I’m not the one who’s been grumbling around the keep. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You, </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the other hand, are even pricklier than usual.” Lambert hummed in agreement over the brim of his tankard. Geralt remained silent and to the untrained eye, didn’t react. But to the two witchers sitting with him, it was easy to see his guard fly up into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you two are just getting sensitive in your old age.” He shrugged and put down another tankard easily. Eskel put his hand over the top of it and pushed it gently to the surface of the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, we’re not stupid. And we wouldn’t ask if we weren’t concerned.” Lambert snorted from his spot next to Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak for yourself.” Eskel shot him a glare and he rolled his eyes, but gave in easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may be a bitch, Geralt, but even a bitch can tell when there’s a problem.” Geralt worried his lip and pushed a hand through his hair. The other two stared at him intently. After the silence had stretched painfully long, he broke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine! Fine. It’s that fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>bard.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ha! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>told you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eskel!” Eskel rolled his eyes and ignored Lambert’s outburst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever since we went our separate ways for the winter, I’ve just felt. I don’t know--off?” A knowing grin found its place on Eskel’s scarred face and he briefly made eye contact with Lambert, who was fighting to stay serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, you are a dumbass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>___</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It became a nightly ritual: dinner, drinks, and Geralt’s emotional turmoil. Lambert and Eskel had secretly made a bet on how long it would take Geralt to realize what his feelings meant. Eskel had a little more faith; he was certain that Geralt would realize before midwinter. Lambert was sure that he wouldn’t come to the correct conclusion until they were deep into the snows. Geralt was dubious as to what their motives for the constant pestering was, but he could find no ill intent behind them and was hard-pressed to find a reason to avoid the pair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t understand! The damn bard is so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can never get his voice out of my head, it’s like he’s taunting me from halfway across the damn continent!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raucous laughter echoed through the keep as Geralt loudly lamented his inability to stop thinking about the bard. It had progressed from brooding to desperation, and he was becoming stir crazy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, next winter I think you just need to bring him to Kaer Morhen. It’s got to be better than this endless craze that’s taken hold of you. And you still don’t know the cause?” Lambert elbowed Eskel in the side, hissing a warning. Geralt was too busy draining his fourth tankard of White Gull for the night to notice. Eskel shoved Lambert hard enough that he nearly fell out of his seat, but he only laughed all the louder for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’m cursed. That has to be it. When this damn snow finally melts, I’ll find Yen and she can lift it.” Geralt scowled into his mug as the other two witchers burst into another fit of laughter across from him. After several minutes of guffawing, Geralt had had enough. He stood up, and without explanation, stalked away to his room to mope. As soon as his footsteps were out of earshot, Lambert raised his eyebrows at Eskel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re running out of time, dumbass. We both know he won’t figure it out without help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel merely punched him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>___</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The metallic clang of blades colliding echoed through the courtyard. Geralt, restless and unsettled from the inescapable thoughts of his bard, had sought out Eskel to spar. They were hours into the familiar dance before some of the tension left his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bard still bothering you, I take it?” Eskel seemed to have a penchant for asking stupid questions nearly as often as Jaskier, these days. Geralt pursed his lips and said nothing, redoubling his efforts to relieve his partner of his sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert stood to the side, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and shouting out the occasional (and entirely unhelpful) critique. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, have you considered </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re fighting like a damn trainee!” Without looking, the white-haired witcher threw his sword at Lambert, who had to duck underneath the projectile to avoid being gutted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t very sportsmanlike!” He called. Geralt didn’t hear him, as Eskel had dropped his blade as well and they had begun wrestling on the ground. It was only moments before Geralt was trapped in a headlock, and he tapped out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, he’s really bothering you, isn’t he? You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>off your game.” Eskel asked quietly as they dusted themselves off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, dammit! I don’t know what to do! Nothing works; sleeping, meditation, sparring, distractions, I’ve tried it all and I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can still hear his fucking voice! It’s like I’ve caught some fucking disease!” Eskel gave him an unreadable look as he stalked off to the bathhouse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s always dragging me to these damn courts to watch his back while he plays because he can’t be bothered to pay attention to what royal pantry he’s sticking his sausage in!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert wordlessly raised an eyebrow as Eskel, who sat across the library nursing his drink in silence. Geralt had put down exactly four tankards of White Gull and had been talking for hours about his adventures with the bard, completely oblivious to the silent conversation happening in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And all of those damn outfits. Who cares if they’re fashionable?? Fashion is worth nothing when you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing I’ve been able to convince him of in sixteen years--</span>
  <em>
    <span>sixteen years, Eskel--</span>
  </em>
  <span>is that he needs to buy boots that won’t fall apart after one day of walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>nooooo, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>doublets</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to stay. Do you know how many doublets he’s ruined because he’s constantly following me into hunts? Maybe, if he used his profit to buy a damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>weapon, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I wouldn’t need to follow him to every performance! It’s always ‘Dammit, Geralt, this doublet was brand new and it cost me a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fortune! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now it’s got </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster guts </span>
  </em>
  <span>all over.</span>
  <em>
    <span>’” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Geralt put one hand on his hip and flung his other arm about wildly in an uncannily impressive imitation of Jaskier’s mannerisms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he ever think to stop spending coin so foolishly on outfits? Yes, he looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn </span>
  </em>
  <span>good in them, not that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> had noticed,, but the court ladies certainly seem to think so, I’ve seen the way they eye him like a piece of meat--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel tuned out Geralt’s jealous ramblings, for fear that he would actually laugh out loud at how blind the witcher was to the blatant and obvious feelings he had for the bard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt wasn’t sleeping. He could lay in his bed as long as he wanted, get drunk off his tits, exhaust himself with sparring and hunts, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing was working. </span>
  </em>
  <span>No matter what he did, at the end of the day he still found himself staring at the ceiling longing for the familiar weight of the bard in the bed beside him. He was getting more and more irritable, he could tell, and it was starting to wear the others’ patience thin. They no longer found Geralt’s unusual antics amusing, and peace and quiet was becoming harder and harder to come by with his restlessness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white wolf of Rivia was slowly reaching his breaking point, and with him, everyone else in the keep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He often spent his nights on the roof, staring out over the valley and pretending the cold didn’t bother him. He felt twitchy, cooped up, inside the fortress. Being outside gave him space to breathe, if not peace of mind. It was on one such night that he found Lambert joining him in an unprecedented show of thoughtfulness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be asleep.” He said, not turning around when he heard the youngest witcher’s footsteps approaching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could say the same to you, bitch. Aren’t you cold?” Geralt shook his head at the same time a shiver ran up his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re all getting a bit worried about you, you know. You’re driving us up the walls.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hummed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, no snarky retort? You’re getting boring, Geralt. Come inside and have a drink with Eskel and I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a bit. Give me a few more minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, but I’m coming to get you if you’re not down in ten. I mean it, old man.” He didn’t respond. A blanket was dropped unceremoniously over his shoulders, and by the time he turned around, Lambert was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were sparring again. Eskel seemed to understand that it was the only way he could let off any steam these days, and usually followed without question when Geralt turned up just to throw a sword into his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flash of steel, a small slip, and then--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” Geralt sword quietly and his sword slipped out of his grasp. Blood poured from his arm where Eskel had caught him, and he wrapped his hand around it quickly to stop the flow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Geralt, are you alright?” Geralt growled and nodded, already stomping inside to bandage the cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want help?” He stopped, considering it, before growling something that sounded like </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine </span>
  </em>
  <span>and continuing through the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel quickly retrieved the roll of bandages they kept near the courtyard for occasions such as this and waved Geralt closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me. Does it need stitches?” He already knew the answer before the question was finished, inspecting the wound with sharp eyes. Geralt shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll heal up on its own in a week or so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then.” Eskel made quick work of bandaging his arm up, patting him gently when he was through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should take a break from sharp things until you have your wits about you properly?” He suggested tentatively, watching the muscle in Geralt’s jaw work as he struggled to control his temper. A terse nod, then he disappeared off to a dark corner somewhere to brood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel sighed, shaking his head. Lambert appeared in the doorway behind him, seemingly having come to the same conclusion that enough was enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, who’s gonna tell him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, I swear by Melitele and all things holy, if you don’t quit it with the theatrical sighs I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>gut you.” They were sitting in the library, a rare night of quiet. For once, they had decided not to drink; their stocks of White Gull had taken quite a hit in the last couple of weeks. They were well past midwinter, and even Eskel’s patience was wearing thin. Lambert chuckled darkly from his spot in the corner, and the other two shot him withering looks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck is so funny, Lambert?” Geralt growled, rereading the same paragraph for the third time in a row. He had taken to updating the bestiary in a last-ditch effort to get the bard out of his head. It wasn’t working very well, but at least he was doing something useful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert…” Eskel’s warning was laden with some unspoken message, and Geralt’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two have been awfully friendly as of late. The fuck are you up to?” They exchanged a glance, some unspoken conversation happening that Geralt was entirely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>privy to, and finally Eskel heaved a sigh and put his book down. Lambert rolled his eyes and returned to his own reading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve had a...bet, of sorts. Since Lambert has already won, I suppose it can only do good to tell you.” Geralt rolled his eyes and shut his own book. This would be interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are completely out of touch with your own emotions, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that have to do with anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lambert </span>
  </em>
  <span>was able to tell before a week had passed in the keep. Are you truly that oblivious?” Lambert looked up from his book, eyes narrowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I resent that! I can be observant when I want to be.” He called, shifting comfortably. Geralt’s gaze flickered with uncertainty between the two. A hint of anger crossed his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oblivious to </span>
  <em>
    <span>what, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eskel? Spit it out already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, it’s plain to anyone with eyes that you’re in love!” Geralt’s eyes widened comically and he bared his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I-In--</span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>in love??” </span>
  </em>
  <span>His eyes were threatening to pop out of his head, “You’re out of your minds! I’m a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>witcher. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>love!” He was practically shouting now, fingers twitching as he itched to punch something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in denial now, but it makes sense, Geralt! You’re not suffering from something as insidious as a curse, and you’re not sick! Just wait, you’ll come around.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Come around, he did. He disappeared for the better part of two weeks, and not even Vesemir saw him in that time. When he finally did emerge, he looked no more rested than when he had gone into hiding. If anything, he looked worse. He trudged into the kitchen one evening, and Eskel grimaced at the state he was in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Venison?” He offered, holding out a plate and wincing. Geralt took it wordlessly and sat down heavily at the table. Eskel joined him shortly, and they ate together in silence for a while before he finally spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right, dammit.”  Eskel allowed himself a small smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though he would never say it out loud, Eskel was glad to see Geralt go when spring finally came. Though he was relieved to finally get some space from the angsty witcher, he was more relieved to know that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to get the chance to work through his feelings. He was happier to see that there was finally an end in sight for the brutal torment Geralt had subjected himself to all winter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert was not so quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go get fucking laid, old man. You drove us all half-insane with your endless pining. Gods help me, if you don’t bring that damn bard with you next winter, I’ll kill you myself.” The threat came with the unspoken order that they left each other with every spring:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stay safe. Come back alive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When Geralt set off down the mountain for the year, he knew that when he returned, it wouldn’t be alone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>